


Hopscotch

by GretchenSinister



Series: My Top 10 JackRabbit Fics [8]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, eldritch guardians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22397488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Jack’s flashback on the ice: “You wanna play a game? We’re going to play Hopscotch! Like we play every day!”Challenging a rabbit to a hopping game may seem unwise. But after the events of the movie, Jack and Bunnymund play Hopscotch together. Now that Jack has his memories back, the game means something more."Have you missed the Apotheosis AU? I have. This one is set soon after Bunny has followed Jack into becoming an eldritch sort of being. The game of hopscotch has been very loosely interpreted. (The grammar is not as weird as it sometimes is, though.)
Relationships: E. Aster Bunnymund/Jack Frost
Series: My Top 10 JackRabbit Fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589287
Kudos: 22
Collections: JackRabbit Short Fics





	Hopscotch

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 1/6/2016.

They call what they do by the name of a child’s game, because there aren’t any words for it, and they haven’t quite let go of such things yet—Jack, because he loves to talk to more people than just the four or five or six (or maybe more, it’s hard to count them and really he is quite young) that could understand him otherwise, Bunny, because he can’t quite believe he’s following Jack on this path, and even sometimes leading.  
  
It’s better for a rabbit to lead games of leaping, isn’t it?  
  
There are all the neat numbers to follow, numbers of months and years, numbers that say _this_ planet can bloom with a million million kinds of life, numbers that say _yes but for part of the year there will be death,_ death to set off the life that stays like jewels, like the bright red berries that are part of what remains. These are the numbers that Bunny knew about always, but they are not the only numbers. There are numbers that say, this is the way everything can stay together even when it should be flying apart, this is the way that from a different view everything is flying apart.  
  
Bunny thinks those numbers have nothing to do with him, and maybe even not Jack; he won’t throw any stones onto them and he begs Jack not to either, he doesn’t want them to bring it all to an end by accident, especially not while waiting on Tooth and North. And Jack says—well, not exactly says, but he asks Bunny in a language clearer but more incomprehensible than words, how does he think he’s going to mess things up when even the Old Men haven’t managed yet.  
  
And Bunny grumbles as a thunderstorm and Jack laughs the rain to lashing. But there are more numbers to play with than this and they, amazingly, compromise more often now that they’ve become. There are the numbers that say six petals instead of five, two eyes instead of three, a beak shaped like this and not that. Numbers that say the treetops here won’t touch, but the treetops there will, that have the vine going one one two three five eight thirteen instead of anything else, that an apple will be sweet or sour, white or yellow or green or red or purple.  
  
These are the numbers Bunny will play with, though he never knew them as numbers before; if he can see them differently now, well, everything’s different now so what are a few numbers to everything else? And Jack wants to play, Jack wants to throw stones or whatever they’re really throwing onto these numbers, for them to leap and hop around and leave trails that no one sees but everything feels behind them.  
  
Bunny _will_ play this game, yes indeed, it’s nothing but growth and change, and if it’s more than what he ever saw before, well, he’ll face that, he’ll laugh and leap through it before or after Jack, he’ll jump over the stones that aren’t stones and let them grow and change like the seeds they aren’t either, let them say seven petals instead of six. Let all the eggs hatch, let all the seeds sprout. It’s what he’s always loved, and if the way he loves is different now, it’s more a gift of Jack’s than the fault of his, isn’t it? And Jack, Jack, Jack the Drowned Boy, Joyful Jack, _winterlaugher_ , this Jack, his Jack—if he’s playing at death now with the stones and seeds he throws into the numbers, he’s only doing so because he knows Bunny’s beside him, playing at life.  
  
No wonder he couldn’t stop asking, before. Much wonder that Bunny was so reluctant to join.


End file.
